


Revenge is Best Served on China

by Rivela



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Casual mentions of violence(?), Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 05:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9977927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rivela/pseuds/Rivela
Summary: Going to the mall isn’t the kind of date Dean is into, let alone wander from store to store window shopping, trailing behind Roman as he struggles to make up his mind on what to buy for his mother.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's scary to post something after so long and with my current crisis over how bad my writing is. Well, I'm just glad I got this done... *side eyes the bunch of WIPs waiting in line* Aaaanyways, this is loosely based on something that happened yesterday at Pottery Barn when an old lady mistook my friend and I for a couple checking out tableware. It was so gold it became this, but I also blame my insomnia so... enjoy!

Going to the mall isn’t the kind of date Dean is into, let alone wander from store to store window shopping, trailing behind Roman as he struggles to make up his mind on what to buy for his mother. Dean likes the Netflix and chill thing, maybe grab a quick greasy meal at some fast food place or, his favorite, the  _ let’s get a little drunk and make out _  vibe. Hear Roman go on and on about what his mother may or may not like is the worst, it has him sighing and rolling his eyes, wishing death was an immediate thing instead of a long drawn soliloquy.

“Just pick something already.” He mutters while he pokes at some fancy dècor in a furnishing store. “How hard can it be to pick a damn gift for your mother?”

“I don’t know. She’s picky.”

Roman’s eyes don’t leave the cutlery set he’s examining and Dean looks at him for a bit, wondering if it’s too late to bail out and excuse himself with some nonexistent emergency. Maybe he left the stove on, but he remembers Roman knows how lazy he is when it comes to cooking. Perhaps he’s waiting for an important call. He needs a land line for that though and, given his current relationship with his cellphone, it was unlikely Roman would believe that either.

“Told you you didn’t have to come.” Roman adds still not lifting his gaze.

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Wish I had listened to you.”

Dean leaves the... whatever it is he’s fiddling with in favor of a huge platter, too heavy and ornamental to be of actual use in the kitchen.

“Yo, leave that there. Last thing I want is you breaking something and having to pay for it.”

A click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth dismisses Roman’s warning. He doesn’t care about his lame worries, this is something big and pretty calling for Dean’s attention like a mermaid luring a sailor to his demise.

“What would you do if I gift you one of these?” He asks. Doesn’t mean he will buy it, now or ever, it just seems to go with Roman’s taste and his  _ I like to cook _  and  _ I’m hella good at it _  jive.

“I’d fucking put it away under lock and key so you don’t break it.”

Roman chuckles and Dean is smiling, mischievous tongue poking out of his lips. “But for real though?”

“For real?” There’s a pause and Roman looks back at Dean, wary of the way he’s holding the dishware. “I don’t know... It doesn’t seem like the thing you’d give me as a gift.”

“What would I give you then?”

Dean finally sets the platter on the same spot he picked it from. He peeks at the price and winces, way out of his league and Roman is right, it’s not his style at all. He pictures himself buying it and arriving at Roman’s door with it wrapped, big bow and all; he has to hold back from laughing, because imagining it is as ridiculous as it’d be if it happened in real life.

“Your idea of a gift is writing  _ good for a blowjob _  on a napkin and handing it to me like it’s some special coupon.”

His effort in keeping a straight face evaporates with that, an ugly chortle makes the nearest salesperson turn their way, and Dean covers his mouth to muffle his amusement.

“That sounds about right.” He concedes nodding.

“Damn right. I know you better than you know yourself, baby boy.”

Roman walks away from the porcelain and china sets moving to where the glassware is. Their day is going to be spent there, hunting for a non-existent perfect gift, and Dean is okay with that for now, it’s the least he can do for his boyfriend after such a good laugh. Also, there’s no harm in looking around, so he does that.

He roams on his own, leaving Roman to his own devices to make a decision, and realizes that most of the things he likes have a similar price to the platter. It’s scary to him, a self considered simple man, seeing minimalist taste is costly even though it’s, well, minimalist.

By the time he’s back next to Roman, having gone through the shop already, the possibility of one day getting stuff for their own house cozies in his mind. One day, why not. A high-end set of elegant plates to spoil Roman doesn’t sound half bad, take him shopping to guarantee they’ll both like it so their cheap ass mac and cheese will taste luxurious and gourmet.

“Would you really put it away?” Dean inquires, he has to, just in case. Before his hopes go up higher regarding this petty, domestic fantasy.

“What?” Dean points towards the platter and Roman hums thoughtful, in apparent serious consideration of his options. “It’d depend on how much it costed.” He shoots back and Dean pretends taking offense raising his eyebrows and placing a hand on his chest.

“And here I was thinking you loved me for better and for worse.” Dean scoffs provoking a wide amused smile on the other.

“Hey, ‘m just being honest.”  He hears him say, and for some reason it bothers him.

“Whatever.”

They continue Roman’s search in silence. Dean can’t keep his hands to himself, touching and poking everything that catches his eye, and he has his hands swatted away more than once by Roman.

“Jeez! Are you gonna be like this if we ever get anything fancy?”

There’s an exasperated huff after his question, he only wants to entertain himself in the midst of this boring and unrequited task, Roman should know better than to be a nag he thinks.

“We’ll call it irreconcilable differences at court.”

The joke tugs a bit on a soft spot. “Yeah, yeah, you’ll have your alimony so you and the china can live happily ever after.” He adds with a dry laugh.

Roman winks at him and shrugs off the topic. Dean takes it as a sign that maybe he should stick to plastic tableware to be safe and avoid havoc in his imaginary household, lest his knack to break and mess up stuff results in familial World War III.

“But I’d let you visit us.” His boyfriend says, focused on frames and candle holders. “Spend some time with me and the china before we rekindle in bed and go our separates way because you can’t be gentle with my dishes.” Dean must have a sad puppy face on because Roman smiles at him in unspoken comfort and grabs his shoulder nudging him lightly. “Hey, don’t get sad I won’t divorce you for breaking stuff.”

It’s dumb, to feel down over something that hasn’t happened yet, a joke above all, yet Dean can’t shake it off. He twists his mouth, looks the other way at the same time he mumbles. “Yeah. Right.”

Concern drops Roman’s voice to a dubious whisper. “You know we’re only joking here, right?”

“I guess.”

“Gosh, Dean! We have been together for long enough...” Roman starts, turning to him with an incredulous expression, there’s no reproach in his words, instead he appears surprised and a tad entertained by this.

“What did he do to you, sweetheart?” His rambling is interrupted by a lady, staring at them on the other side of the display Roman was looking at. They look at her, then at each other and back at her. “Tell me what did he do. In my 51 years of marriage, there hasn’t been one problem my husband and I haven’t solved. Whatever he did, I can tell you how to fix it.”

Roman beams, grinning like the smug idiot he is, and faces the woman to talk to her directly. “He’s talking about breaking my china.” Dean is blushing, bashful and warm with embarrassment, but Roman continues. “He thinks I’ll divorce him if he breaks it.”

“Oh, no. No need, honey!” The woman cheerily comments patting Roman’s arm. “If he breaks your china, you break his nose!”

Dean dashes past them, he needs to get away from this strange old lady who’s suggesting to his boyfriend to beat him up. He’s about to exit the store, go to the food court or maybe wait outside idly when Roman bursts into giggling, the lady is laughing as well, and Dean is turns three different shades of pink. He wants the floor to crack open and swallow him whole.

Looking back at where his boyfriend is, his eyes and Roman’s meet. Roman nods at the woman, both of them still smiling, and they apparently say their goodbyes because Roman struts towards him snickering.

“She says if you give me trouble with the china I should buy another one and break it on your head...” He notes with mild fascination, as if this is some prime marital advice.

“Real funny,” Dean rolls his eyes unable to conceal a small smile. “Like you could raise your hand against me.”

“Hey, you know I’m not afraid of giving you a good spanking when you’re misbehaving.” Roman warns playful. “She said there’s no misunderstanding love can’t solve...”

“Cliché.” He replies. Leaving the awkward situation aside, it’s not a half bad thing to recommend to a young couple, and he finds his mood lightened.

Roman licks his lips and leans in to whisper close to his cheek. “She also said there’s nothing wrong with having sex over spilt milk.”

“She must’ve meant broken china.” He corrects causing Roman to chuckle.

“Yeah, that too.”

“So violence, understanding and sex are the cure-all to our problems...” He lists raising his fingers as he mentions the tools to a successful relationship, skepticism shining through and through.

“She’s been married 51 years, uce. I take her word.”

They jest about it admitting that someone who’s spent so much time with another person must have a trick or two under their sleeve to make it work. It’s all fun and games after, Roman abandoning the idea of the gift altogether, but Dean can’t leave it alone for the day. He pokes at Roman’s stomach once they’ve reached the parking lot.

“I’ll need some plates of yours to prove this theory.”

Roman smirks, biting his bottom lip at the same time his arm snakes around Dean’s neck to bring him closer. It’s as intimate as they can get in public without drawing attention, but Roman’s words burn with enough lust to entice a shiver down his back. “It’s on.”


End file.
